


Rock Star

by jewelianna88



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 13:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewelianna88/pseuds/jewelianna88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris didn't want anyone coming to his first solo show, but JC had other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rock Star

It was four am, and Chris had just gotten off the phone with his mother, still completely wired and he knew, KNEW, that he wouldn't be sleeping for a long time. He hadn't been this hyper since Pop Odyssey, after the first show, when he heard the roar of a sold-out stadium, the noise so loud it made his bones shake and his stomach turn to jelly.

This time, it was only a small club, only a couple hundred people, and only two songs, but the effect was the same. He couldn't wrap his mind around how much those ten minutes had changed his outlook on everything. He was mad at himself for having waited so long before going back on the stage-- for believing he could live without the music, the lights, the rush of performing.

He'd told the guys not to come. It had been hard to convince them, and he'd had to use his best piece of blackmail on Lance to keep him away. Not that he ever would tell Diane about the bathhouse in Zurich and the real reason Lance had a "stomach bug" that kept him moaning on the toilet for two days. He loved her like his own mother, and didn't want to see her die of a heart attack.

He wanted them now, though, in the after-hours excitement. There was no after-party, just a massive gathering at the Red Wing, some dive sports bar where everything was deep friend and beer was your only choice of beverage. He hung with the band for hours, then left, energy bubbling in him, and he just walked, wandering the streets, until he finally pulled out a phone and called his mom, hoping she would understand some of what he was trying to put together. She did, and it helped, but he was still itching for more.

When he got back to the hotel room, he was surprised that the chain had been fixed from the inside. For a few long seconds, he stared at the numbers on the door, until they looked completely wrong and he was sure he had the wrong room.

"Is this my room?" Chris asked Lee, bodyguard of the moment. No one stayed with Chris long, the way they clung to the cute ones.

Lee glanced at the numbers and nodded solemnly. Chris tried the handle again, but the chain still kept the door from opening. He turned to go down to the front desk and make heads roll, but there was a noise, and then the door opened.

Sleepy blue eyes blinked at him. JC had one hand resting on the door frame, the other holding the door open against his side, and he was smiling, a dazed smile, but clearly happy. Which, Chris thought, was pretty nice, since he had broken into Chris's hotel room and locked him out. It's good that JC was happy, because Chris was going to hurt him now.

"I've been waiting for you," JC said, stepping aside so Chris could enter.

He should have known that they wouldn't stay away. Well, Lance would, for fear that his mom would find out about his dirty dirty secrets, but they'd find a way to send someone. He started to undress, pulling off his layers of shirts, all nasty with dried sweat. JC just stood by the now closed door and watched.

"You're not supposed to be here," Chris finally said, climbing into bed in just his boxers. "I'm going to close my eyes, and when I wake up tomorrow, you're going to be gone and this will have just been a dream." He punched his pillow for good measure a few times and closed his eyes.

He probably managed to lie quietly for three and a half minutes before peeking out over the blankets. JC was still there, just standing like a statue. It was freaky the way he could stand still like that.

"I mean it, Chasez, go home." He wouldn't give JC the satisfaction of sitting up, but it was hard, so hard, because the energy, the life that the show had pumped into him was still raging and he had the urge, even as a man in his thirties, to jump up and down on the bed and tell JC everything about it. But he didn't want JC there, and that was the fundamental point of all of this.

"You brought the house down tonight, fucker, I'm, like, blown away here. We always knew you were a rocker, but damn, you kicked ass." JC's colorful vocabulary always made Chris smile, no matter how hard he tried to keep the corner of his mouth from curling.

"You weren't supposed to be here. I told you not to come. You promised," Chris threw at him, sitting up now for the best accusatory position he could achieve. "You swore you were too busy to get here anyway."

"Yeah, well, I'm earning my frequent flier miles. And sometimes things are worth breaking promises for. Sometimes," he said, and now he was moving closer to Chris, "you know a friend so well that you just have to bypass what they're saying and go with what they mean."

He sat down on the end of the bed. Chris, always one to hold a grudge, pulled his feet back, away from JC's hands. JC let him, patience always insurpassable.

"Maybe you just don't get it. I don't want you here." Chris put on his very best mean face, the one that made Avery cry just looking at him. Too bad JC wasn't a kid.

"No," he replied, "you don't want *NSync here. You want this to be you,"and he pointed at Chris, "not us." He made general swirling motions with his hands. "But that doesn't mean that you didn't want your best friends to be here for you."

Chris grumbled, staring at his hands. He wondered what had ever given him the notion that they would actually stay away. That even after years apart, they couldn't read each others' minds.

"Baby," JC said, "I saw you up there, and you looked so happy. You looked better than I've seen you in a long time. You raised the roof, cat. You blew the windows out of the joint."

Chris smiled more at JC's crazy talk, cracking the knuckles on his fingers. "It felt really good," he finally said. "Shit, C, it was insane. I mean, where were you? Did you hear the whole thing?"

JC nodded. "I got one of the band's road guys to let me in back. I ducked out right at the end."

"What I said," Chris said, and he wouldn't have said it if he'd known anyone was there, "about the break."

JC leaned in, and wow, that was unexpected because JC hadn't kissed him in years, not since, wow, probably lawsuit time when they did the casual sex thing because they were just there. Chris kissed back, before shock could stop the natural reaction.

"I don't pity you," JC said, "because I know that's what you're thinking. But you need to believe that we're not all seeking glory and leaving you behind. It's just the way things work, and it's all about time, and you need to do things in your own time."

Chris blinked, because sometimes people just knew how to say the right thing, and JC said a lot of stuff, but somehow, in there, were good meanings.

JC smiled at him, and kissed him again, and it was just perfect. That energy seemed to flow out of him, into JC, and back again, a circuit of electricity that wired every cell in his body. He groaned into it, feeling JC's cold hands circling his arms, holding him still as they kissed some more.

Chris fell over backwards as JC leaned even further, pulling his knees up onto the bed so he could crawl over to where Chris lay, the open bathroom door providing the only light into the room. With shadows, JC looked dangerous, hair falling in his eys, lips curved in a smile that said he knew too much for his own good.

Chris let his hands drift down into the back of JC's jeans, reaching for that soft smooth skin that only the most special people had access to. He was expecting the slide of cotton, the pull of elastic, the soft fuzz of hair over silky skin. Instead, his fingers brushed over bumpy lace, and he froze, a statue on the bed as JC continued to kiss at his umoving lips.

It wasn't a kink, really, more like something he liked to think about every now and again. He'd never acted on it, never done anything about it. In fact, he'd only ever spoken of it once, when he was very very drunk and thought everyone else in the room was too far gone to rememberit in the morning. There was just something about the combination ofmasculinity and feminity, the contrast between hard sculpted male and delicate female.

He glanced up, nervous, not even sure where to go from here. The onlything he did know was that his cock had swelled with just that simplebrush of his fingertips against the dainty lace that covered JC's rear.

JC lifted his face, shaking it in attempts to get a stray curl out of his eyes. Chris reached up with one shaky hand, the one that wasn't still on JC's butt, and brushed the lock behind JC's ear.

"I thought you'd like that," JC whispered, voice barely audible over the rush of blood in Chris's ears. He managed a stunted nod, not really sure if it conveyed the overwhelming desire running through his veins. He tenatively moved his hand, the one in JC's pants, brushing it over the lacy fabric again, watching as JC's eyes fluttered shut and he let out a soft moan, more of a sigh of pleasure, when Chris slipped a hand into the crevice, pressing lace up against the sensitive skin between JC's thighs.

"Do you want to see?" JC asked, and Chris nodded again, this time vehemently.

"Oh, fuck, yes." His voice recovered, Chris brought both hands to JC's shoulders and pushed, raising a laughing JC until he was standing at the foot of the bed, two hands on his belt buckle, pausing there.

"What?" Chris asked, impatient as JC stood before them, hiding something special underneath his Levi's.

"I should do this right, you know, make it nice for you." JC started humming stripper music, while slowly undoing the buckle on his woven purple belt.

"You know, nice isn't really necessary right now. In fact, the sooner you're out of those, the nicer this will be." Chris walked to the end of the bed on his knees, sitting back on his heels when JC laughed and finally undid the buttons on his fly and dropped the denim to the floor.

It was pink, Chris thought, not white like his mind had been picturing but pink, a dusty rose that just barely showed in the gray light drifting out of the bathroom door. He imagined they were brighter in regular light, but this was somehow more arousing, just the tiny hint of color against JC's creamy skin. They were real, too, not something he'd gotten from a kinky catalogue, but real women's panties that bulged helplessly in the front, where JC's erection peeked out of the top, unable to withstand the lacy confines any more. Chris traced the bone of JC's hip, right over where the panties ended, carefully dipping a finger underneath the fabric until he hit the sensitve spot just above JC's leg that alwaysmade him shudder.

Rising up to his knees, Chris captured JC's face between his palms and kissed him. He opened for JC's tongue, hands clasped at JC's ears, keeping his close, fueled by the energy of the entire night. He wanted to ask why JC had done this, why now, why him, but the questions would have to wait for later as his dick throbbed for attention in his shorts.

JC's hands slipped off of Chris's waist, lower and lower, taking the boxers with him as they went, until Chris rocked back on the bed, kicking them free. JC followed him down. The first brush was electric, the feel of JC's cock against his separated only by the scrap of lace. It might have been more comfortable if it had been satin or silk, but the lace sent shivers up and down Chris's spine that made him wonder if there he'd just grown a new batch of nerves, because he'd never felt this on fire before.

He wasn't completely clear how they ended up under the covers, but JC was suddenly naked, his long lithe body snaking around Chris's, foreheads pressed together, dicks happily bouncing against each other. He hadn't planned on getting laid tonight, this was all so much, and Chris gasped as JC bore down again, grinding against his dick, all man now and Chris was thankful for it.

JC pulled a condom from under the pillow, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. The foil packed picked up the scarce light and shone, a beacon of hope in a dark room. Chris snickered to himself at his own corniness as JC used his teeth to gently tear the corner of the package.

In the fantasy, Chris was the one doing the fucking, but he was too lazy to move now, too involved to do anything but spread his legs when JC rolled the condom down his own dick. Chris held his knees wide when JC dipped two fingers into a jar of lube on the nightstand and brought them up to his hole. He tensed, drawing in with the first touch, like always, but let out a long breath. JC's fingers were cool like rain, slicking him up so he'd be ready for the next step.

With careful hands, JC slid two fingers in a steady rhythm, in and out, just grazing Chris's prostate wtih the tip of his index finger on each stroke. Chris closed his eyes and panted, not able to think about anything, just going with the waves of pleasure shooting out of his core.

"Fuck," he cried, opening his eyes to meet JC's seering blue stare. "Now, JC."

"Are you sure?" JC asked, and Chris loved that he was concerned, it had been a while, but right now he needed that concern about as much as he needed another casserole dish in his unused kitchen. What he needed was JC, inside of him, immediately.

The first plunge made him gasp, the burning pain always a surprise, not matter how many times he did this. He forced himself to relax, focusing on JC, leaning over him on strong arms. When the uncomfortable feeling of being stuffed began to subside, he squeezed on JC's triceps and was rewarded with a soft kiss and movement.

JC might not have had Timberlake hips, but they were better, so much more energetic. He kept with long thrusts, brushing past Chris's prostate at every glide, making Chris shudder beneath him, helpless to do more than cling and let JC take him. JC grabbed onto Chris, pinning his arms up over his head, using Chris for leverage as he plunged in and out of his body. Chris could do nothing but ride it out and moan in pleasure.

It didn't last long at all, and Chris came with his arms still held to the bed, JC shuddering down in him, above him, kissing his forehead, since he was just that much taller. Chris licked at JC's throat as his orgasm subsided, feeling the pulse beat under his tongue. So hot, so hot, so hot, he thought, and why hadn't he wanted this to happen?

JC snuggled down beside him, helping Chris to wiggle out from under the stained top sheet, kicking it down to the foot of the bed. He wrapped an arm around Chris's middle, and Chris let himself be pulled into JC's embrace. He knew he'd been majorly manipulated, and there would be payback, but not now.

"What was that?" Chris asked, hoping JC would understand.

"Wanted tonight to be special," he mumbled back, his face buried in Chris's shoulder, leaving little kisses on his collarbone.

"Well, feel free to make any night special," Chris replied, eyes drifting to where the pale pink lace had landed on the floor. He wondered if JC had any more of them packed up someplace.

"I have to be on a plane in two hours," JC whispered, rubbing at Chris's temple with his nose. Chris shuddered.

"Then we have time to go again?"

"Mmmm, OK. Gimme five minutes."

Chris agreed, and stared at the ceiling while JC recuperated. A good night, now a great night, and damn, he was gonna have to call his mom again. But not tell her about the underwear. Beside him, JC was humming, no, singing, very lowly, and Chris could just make out the words.

"So you wanna be a rockstar, keep it coming, don't stop..."

END


End file.
